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[sympathyforme]

Told you today would be something big.

[He's smirking a bit at that. No delusion of actually understanding the City, but at least he's seeing certain patterns.]

Anyway, since the City seems to be filling up, I gotta ask:

Any cute girls here?~


[ooc: Open to all comers, fourth wall people, come at me!]

Comments

[shall_yield_us]

And with that steel, you partook of my flesh. I'm wounded. And was.

[sympathyforme]

It's a pity you were just wounded. Perhaps I do have some for you.

[shall_yield_us]

...that was your cruelty, you fool. How you mistake the two.

Never you mind - Alexiel. She... fares well?

[sympathyforme]

A common mistake, I'd say.

She probably would rather you were here. But she is well, yes.

[shall_yield_us]

More the pity.

[sympathyforme]

Cruelty, I thought.

[shall_yield_us]

Ah, and now you think, you devil? I thought you only had your head so rain wouldn't fall down your throat.

[sympathyforme]

Hardly seems like enough of a reason, but who knows. I do doubt intelligent design.

[shall_yield_us]

No, darling, what you doubt is preordained design.

Why, I've an example of mechanic architecture you're like to adore: the construction of your hands is such that they're like to break at the wrist, should they touch my sister. Fascinating, isn't it?

[sympathyforme]

How come, then, that they're still whole?

[Turning his hands and looking at them in mock wonder.]

[shall_yield_us]

...I've no notion. Perhaps I should doubt intelligent design.

[sympathyforme]

I'll gladly lead you to doubt.

[shall_yield_us]

And I'll leave you to the smithsman, fashioning Alexiel her new belt.

[sympathyforme]

No need for it. She's free.

[shall_yield_us]

And alas, still not the devil's harlot. Go back to your pining like a grief-stricken Penelope, won't you? The tall, dark, handsome, brooding and pathetic look suited you.

[sympathyforme]

I shall never lose it entirely, worry not. But your sister has never been mine, much less a harlot, and I am not hers, either.

We can, however, choose to be together.

[shall_yield_us]

Of course you can, my love. Did you think, perhaps, I might arm you with strength and determination by being perfectly contrary and saying you've no choice? That I'd give you the cause against which you two might wage war, a united, tender front to defend your pride? That is what would bind you, understand: not love of each other, but love of giving evidence that you can choose to do as you please. You'd wed and bed and make merry each day and lie to yourselves with a smile, if only to prove your big, bad contenders wrong.

So I'll not slight you, my lord. You've the choice. You can take it. But she won't want to.

filtered;

[sympathyforme]

It will be over, Rosiel, and you'll be gone. The cycle broken and your Lord dead.

There'll be the freedom no one knows what to do with. And by God's will, my purpose will be gone.

That you can't imagine beyond that, that's no surprise.

filtered;

[shall_yield_us]

That you can't imagine no more than a quest holds the two of you in companionship, that you delude yourself and call it love - that is no surprise.

Of course you must think I say these things out of spite and malice and wickedness and envy, and I'll not deny it. But I'll also not deny I speak the truth.

filtered;

[sympathyforme]

Your belief and my belief shouldn't ever cross over this, since by the time the truth will show itself, neither of us can gloat to the other.